


Straight To My Heart

by orphan_account



Series: Love At One Night Stand [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Culinary teacher Bitty, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Teacher Jack, meet cute, one night stand to lovers, party hook-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:17:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Kiss me,” Eric blurted, and lord he wished he could have blamed it on being drunk.  And maybe he was, in a way.  Drunk on Jack’s gaze, and his grin, and the way his hand was so,sowarm against his skin.  “I mean…um…”“Okay,” Jack whispered, and his fingers uncurled to palm Eric’s cheek, thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth before his head dipped in low, and their lips met.





	Straight To My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Jay- who deleted his tumblr during his last year at Uni for reasons that, believe me, I totally understand--but all the same still manages to IM me with random prompts which I am more than happy to fill. Hope this is what you wanted.
> 
> No real warnings for this fic apply. Mostly fluff, with a hint of miscommunication.
> 
> I wrote this over the weekend when things were a literal disaster, but I've read over it about a hundred times so hopefully the English sounds alright. x

But they only dealt one card  
So for me it is not hard  
You're the bright star in my chart  
You go straight to my heart  
-Sting

*** 

 

It wasn’t that Eric didn’t like parties—he did. He enjoyed good drinks and good music and getting to hang out with friends. But he was new, and even though the Hockey bros were all very nice and welcoming, and not at all like he expected to be—when a drunk Holster tried to shove one of the theatre teachers at him saying, “He loves sucking dick,” Eric figured the whole “gay thing” wasn’t going to be a huge problem, even if the boys’ methods were a little…outside his comfort zone.

But he was still in unfamiliar space. He was surrounded by people who he couldn’t predict, and it was why he was exhausted because holding himself back like this was just…so much. Trying to act and counter act, and try and have a hundred different escapes if the person talking to him suddenly decided that they couldn’t “deal” with being near a gay guy who might _hit on them_.

He wasn’t drinking, either. He was currently getting used to a new med for his ADHD so he was busy sipping on a red solo cup of tonic and cranberry juice. He’d put a twirl of lime on the side to feel extra fancy and not as left out—though most of the people here were guzzling from the keg tap—and he was thinking he might just make a few excuses to go home.

Then his plans were derailed by Shitty, the lawyer and part time hockey forward who threw his arm round Eric’s shoulder and tucked him in close. “My brah…my pie-baking, wonderful brah.”

Eric couldn’t help a small giggle. “Hey, Shits. Stoned?”

“Pleasantly. Lards had some gummies—grapefruit flavour. Fuck, I love her so much.”

Eric snorted. “I can tell.”

Shitty grinned, his teeth white beneath his reddish ‘stache, and his eyes were kind. “Have you met Jack, yet? Our illusive hausmate who never bothers to come to the party, but decided to show his glorious French-Canadian face because he wanted to meet the man who made the most, and I quote, Bits, “Delicious sugar pies I have ever tasted,” with a bunch of French swears in there for emphasis.”

Eric doubted the sugar pies were that good. It was an experimental recipe which he spilt a little and the crust was slightly burnt but…the sentiment was appreciated. Eric had known the would-be frat-haus guys for a while. Most of them were teachers at the university, had known each other since they were all students, half played hockey, half showed up to the community games with vulgar signs and drank too much.

Eric had known guys like that during his own college experience—had even dated a few of them, all closet cases, all ending in spectacular failure. None were like this though, making him feel weirdly at home during his transition into teaching the two culinary classes that the university had open for someone as young and fresh out of his own education as Eric.

Ultimately, Eric trusted Shitty. He didn’t think he’d drag him into a room and plonk him on the sofa next to a complete homophobe, so he nodded. “Okay, let’s meet this Jack of yours.”

Which was how Eric Bittle found himself sat on the sofa next to one of the most gorgeous men he’d ever seen. Jack was the sort of gorgeous where Eric swore for a moment he was punched in the sternum. His sharp blue eyes and quirk of a smile when Shitty made over-the-top introductions made Eric feel like he couldn’t draw breath.

Then he was shoved on a cushion and Shitty was gone, and Jack was asking polite questions about how the students were.

“…different sort, you know? I mean, I have the worst class times, so I’m always exhausted, and so are my students, which makes it hard. And I try to pull my best Chef Ramsay but ultimately they cry and then I feel bad and I want to just give them pie and tea and several hugs and tell them they can do this.”

“Which,” Jack said, the lilt of his accent humming under Eric’s skin with the rest of the things he found unbearably attractive about the man, “will not prepare them for working in a kitchen.”

Eric sighed, shrugging as he stared into his glass of tepid, slowly flattening cranberry cocktail. “I guess? I mean, I think a lot of them don’t actually realise what it’s like to work in a kitchen. They think they’re going to make these creative, expressive dishes to impress diners. When really they’re going to be spending eight hours on their feet frying chicken tenders and burgers and well done steaks.”

Jack wrinkled his nose, and Eric felt his cheeks heat up, hoping to _god_ Jack wouldn’t notice his blush in the dim light of the crowded room. “I think that’s every career though, eh? I mean…you think teaching college is going to be inspiring people, but really it’s making sure you remember your own lecture notes, and assuring your students are interested enough to not fall asleep ten minutes in.”

Eric chuckled. “Fair. I mean, that’s not an issue in my classes, obviously ,what with the sharp knives and hot ovens but…yeah. I mean, I think if five percent of them actually do go on to work in a kitchen, I’ll call myself successful.” He took a sip of his drink. “Anyway, I’m just waiting for a pastry position to open up. I mean, I did standard culinary to broaden my horizons, but I like pastry a lot more.”

“I can tell,” Jack said, and his smile was even softer as he leant in, almost conspiratorially and said, “It showed in those sugar pies. I’d probably do borderline illegal things to have another.”

“Oh my lord, Jack,” Eric breathed, flushing white hot. “That is not necessary. You can have pies any time you want.”

Jack’s grin widened, and when he pulled back, Eric was profoundly aware he was even closer than before. His arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, his fingers grazing Eric’s shoulder. After a moment, the drifted up, touching the freshly shorn back of Eric’s hair. There was a pause, then Jack asked, so quiet Eric could barely hear him over the music, “Is this alright? I…hope I’m not reading this wrong.”

Eric leant back against Jack’s fingers and shook his head. “No, Jack. You’re definitely not reading anything wrong.”

*** 

Three hours in. The party was gone, and it took Eric an embarrassingly long time to realise that the music had stopped and there were only a handful of people left, most of them passed out in various corners against various walls.

Shitty had come in briefly to make lewd hand gestures and say a few things in bad French which Eric didn’t understand, but had Jack laughing and flipping him off. But it was hard to care, because as he and Jack talked, they gravitated closer and closer until Eric was all-but in his lap, his legs over Jack’s thighs, Jack’s arm tucked round his waist. Somehow Jack’s face had made it near Eric’s neck, and Eric had his fingers brushing through Jack’s hair and it was the best fucking thing Eric had felt in…so long.

“It’s late,” he murmured after some time.

Jack stiffened, then turned his face up. His arm shifted a little, drawing a line up Eric’s, until the backs of his knuckles were grazing Eric’s jawline. “I didn’t realise. I was having too much fun.”

Eric let out a puff of air as he stared into Jack’s eyes, the pupils dilated from the dark room, red-rimmed from being open for so long. “Me too,” he admitted.

Jack smiled, letting out a huffing laugh. “Eric…I…”

“Kiss me,” Eric blurted, and lord he wished he could have blamed it on being drunk. And maybe he was, in a way. Drunk on Jack’s gaze, and his grin, and the way his hand was so, _so_ warm against his skin. “I mean…um…”

“Okay,” Jack whispered, and his fingers uncurled to palm Eric’s cheek, thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth before his head dipped in low, and their lips met.

The kiss was more hesitant than Eric wanted, but more intense than perhaps he needed right then. His face flamed with a brutal heat, his mouth parting almost without thinking as Jack’s tongue ran along his bottom lip. It escalated quickly, Eric sliding fully into Jack’s lap, Jack’s fingers digging into Eric’s hips almost like he was afraid to let go, like Eric might suddenly disappear if his hands loosened their grip for even a second.

It was so much, and not enough. Eric pulled back, pushing his forehead against Jack’s. “Have you been drinking?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t usually drink. Are you…is this…?”

“I can’t drink,” Eric said. “Cranberry juice all night. I just…I want you to take me upstairs, but I want to make sure that’s what you want.”

“Crisse,” Jack murmured as his head pushed into the crook of Eric’s neck, tasting his skin there, sucking lightly just under Eric’s ear. “Yes. Yes, I want…god, I want you,” he finished with a groan.

Eric pushed into the kiss again, pressing chest-to-chest with Jack. Somehow, they made it to their feet, stumbling, drunk on lust in a way as Jack took Eric’s hand and somehow, in the dim light of the haus, made it to his room.

It was small, a bed in the corner, a wardrobe near the window, a desk and a chair. The lights were off, and Eric couldn’t see much, but he didn’t need to with Jack’s fingers tugging at his clothes with an almost frantic shake to them. Eric didn’t hesitate now that he was here, now that he was wanted. By the time they tumbled to the bed, they were down to boxers, over-heated skin sliding against each other, both hard and seeking friction.

“I have,” Jack groaned as Eric mouthed along his jaw. “Condoms,” he managed to ground out. His hand flopped out, searching without turning his head, without letting his lips be anywhere but on Eric’s skin.

Two little packets hit the pillow, and it wasn’t long before Eric managed to get his on with trembling hands. Jack seemed content to do just this, pushing and pulling against each other, firm strokes with a tight circle of fingers as their mouths tore at each other.

It was sloppy and just this side of too wet, and too much teeth, but Jack panting in his mouth was probably the most erotic thing Eric had ever experienced in his life, and his orgasm took him sudden and fierce. It wasn’t too drawn out, a muffled shout against Jack’s neck, and he pulsed into the condom.

Jack followed soon after, rubbing against Eric’s thigh, with Eric’s fingers trying to draw him to climax, and he could feel the way Jack swelled, and came against the palm of his hand.

Clean up was easy, and Eric felt fatigue of the long night and the short sex settling into his bones. He wasn’t sure what Jack wanted, what was appropriate, but after Eric rolled back over after binning the used condoms, Jack tucked an arm round him and held him close.

“Can you stay?” He murmured. His eyes were closed, mouth curved in the softest smile. “I want you to stay.”

“I can stay,” Eric said. He hadn’t really done this much—sleeping with someone, being wanted as much as Jack seemed to want him. It was a little overwhelming, but it was so good, and Eric wasn’t about to run away now.

*** 

Eric woke alone, curled against a pillow with the sheets pooled near his waist. As he stretched, he felt a fading warmth on the side of the bed Jack had been sleeping on, so Eric assumed he hadn’t gone too far. It was Wednesday though, which meant everyone had work—including him—so lingering wasn’t going to be on the agenda.

Stretching, he felt deliciously sore, body almost too relaxed in a way that made him want to curl back up in the bed and close his eyes and bask in the memories of that night. As he stood, he could feel the echoes of Jack’s hands on him, of lips pressed under his ear. He pushed on the skin lightly, feeling a twinge, though likely not enough to have left a love bite.

Breathing out, Eric carefully searched for his clothes, hoping they’d be clean enough to get himself home for a shower without attracting too much attention. He took a moment to glance round Jack’s room, neat and tidy, pristinely organised and clean, and a little impersonal now that Eric could see it in the daylight. He had one bookshelf full of binders, no photographs, and only a laptop on his desk which was closed.

Not wanting to be _that guy_ and snoop anymore, Eric quickly let himself into the hallway, and immediately smelt coffee. His stomach growled, and he headed down the stairs, stopping just short of the doorway when he heard voices.

“…man. I mean, I always share deets.”

“Yes, Shits, because you overshare. I have never in my life asked for a description of another person’s body.”

“Lies and slander, Zimmermann. Just last week you…”

Eric was a little desperate not to hear the end of that sentence, afraid to hear about Jack lusting after another person. Yes, it had been one night, and yes, it was very possible this was nothing more than a one-off, but he was going to hold out hope it meant _something_.

“Mornin’, y’all.” Eric feigned a yawn, scrubbing at his eyes a little. 

Jack grinned, turning away and reaching for a mug which was already set on the counter. He filled it from the carafe and then slid it along the counter toward Eric. “Coffee?”

“Bless your gorgeous heart,” Eric said, snatching up the coffee. He glanced at a smirking Shitty, then walked to the fridge. “Can I use this creamer?”

“I mean,” Jack said, leaning against the counter with one hip, his arms crossed, a mostly empty mug of coffee dangling from the edge of his fingers, “if you really want to do that to your body.”

“Oh, hush your mouth. It’s too early for chirps.” But Eric was grinning as he walked back to the counter and began to dress his coffee the way he liked it. Milky-white, too sweet, but he refused to be ashamed. 

He opened his mouth to say something else when Shitty slapped his hands on the counter and said, “Well kids, that’s enough sexual tension for me. I have work. You two behave yourselves. Or like…don’t. Just remember, consent is sexy.”

Before Eric could say anything to that, the back door opened, and a gorgeous golden retriever came padding in through the door. The dog’s collar gave a small jingle, and Jack quickly reached for something inside what looked like a cookie jar, and dropped to his knees.

“Viens ici,” he said, and the dog trotted over, pausing so Jack could give it the treat. “Dis, merci, Lola.” The dog gave a little bark, licked Jack’s hand, then trotted away.

Eric grinned widely as Jack stood, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Yours?”

Jack laughed. “Yeah. Lola. I’d make introductions but she’s more interested in what leftover smells are in the living room from the party last night.”

Eric bit his lip. Jack was being sweet, but standing far away, and it felt awkward now. He cleared his throat and said, “Um…” at the same time as Jack said, “Well…”

They laughed, then Jack held out one arm. “Come here.”

It was more of a request than a command, but it had enough purpose in it that Eric felt as wanted as he had the night before. He set his coffee down, and stepped against Jack, sighing and closing his eyes as Jack wrapped him tight against his chest.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up. I have an early class today.” He punctuated the sentence with a kiss dropped to the crown of Eric’s head. “But I wanted to stay. I did.”

Eric snuffled against Jack’s chest, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Can I text you? I mean…I’d like to…I’m not sure what you want, but…”

“Please text me,” Jack said, and quickly gave Eric his number, and Eric was quick to send him a text. The phone buzzed in Jack’s pocket, but before Eric could chirp him about answering it, Jack grabbed Eric by the chin, tilted his head up, and kissed him again. “I’m free on weekends. My TA does marking for me, so if you don’t have anything going on…”

“Like a date?” Eric asked, still a little dazed from the kiss.

Jack’s grin spread wide. “Yeah. Like a date. I guess we did things a little backward but…”

“I didn’t um…I didn’t mind so much.”

Jack’s cheeks blossomed faintly pink as he dipped in to kiss Eric once more. “Neither did I.” His hand came up, cupping Eric’s cheek for a long, slow minute that dragged and dragged. They pulled apart in a series of pecking kisses, lips chasing each other, hands roaming a little until they were finally apart, Eric breathing a little heavy, and Jack running his hand back through his hair.

“Lordy, I’m gonna be a hot mess all day.”

Jack couldn’t help a chuckle as he dragged one hand round the counter, heading for the kitchen table. He picked up a set of keys, and a wallet, pocketing everything before heading to a small cabinet hung beside the door. He grabbed the handle then turned, calling, “Lola! Travailles!”

The dog came trotting over, coming to a sit at Jack’s feet, and Eric’s eyes widened. “They let you take her to work with you?”

Jack’s head peered up from where he was bent over her collar, and he had a confused smile. “Well…yes. It’s against the law not to.”

Eric was about to ask how that was, exactly, but just then Jack turned, opened the cupboard, and pulled out a harness. Eric recognised it instantly, of course. It was leather, but with black patches, and a small badge on the front reading Guide Dog.

He watched, stunned, confused as Jack eased the harness onto Lola, doing snap under her belly, then he secured the harness in his hand as he straightened up. “See you soon?” Jack asked.

Eric managed to find his voice as he choked out, “Yes. Yeah, of course. Text me back.”

Jack’s grin widened. “I will. Have a good day. Think about me.”

“Yeah,” Eric breathed, and stared until Jack was out the door, and down the pavement.

His shock led him back to his coffee, then further back to a seat, and he was just collapsing when Shitty entered the kitchen, done up for work. His hair was in a low bun at the base of his neck, and he had on white shirt sleeves and trousers, though no tie. He was humming to himself until he saw the look on Eric’s face, and froze.

“What’s that look, brah? Did Jack say something mean? Because I swear it’s just his sense of humour. He doesn’t…”

“He’s blind,” Eric blurted.

Shitty blinked rapidly. “Uh…yeah? That’s not news, my dude.”

“I…” Eric stared at Shitty. “Um. Right.”

“Did you…not know?” Shitty asked slowly.

Eric shook his head. “Not uh…not…no. No. I had no idea.”

“You two talked for like three hours, then fucked all night, and you didn’t know,” Shitty exclaimed.

Eric dragged a hand down his face. “Oh my god, Shitty. I didn’t know! You never told me! And he didn’t…there wasn’t…” Eric swallowed. “It never came up.”

After a second, Shitty laughed. “Oh my fucking god, Bits. I mean, shit. You’re not going to get weird on him, right? Like you’re not going to bail because…”

“What?” Eric said in a rush. “Shitty, I’m not an asshole.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Shitty said, but there was caution in his tone now. “But Bits, people take issue with it, you know?”

Eric flushed, shaking his head, and his voice was quiet as he said, “What if I said something stupid or offensive? God, Shitty. What if he thinks I’m some idiot who…”

Shitty, who had grabbed his buzzing phone, snorted a laugh, shaking his head at the screen. “I don’t think so, Bits. He’s busy waxing poetic about you in my inbox.”

“Thank god,” Eric said, and was almost startled by the level of relief. He’d only just met Jack, but he was falling. Hard.

“You gotta tell him, though,” Shitty said. “When are you seeing him next?”

“This weekend,” Eric said, and gave a miserable groan. “God, he’s going to chirp me to death.”

“Yes,” Shitty affirmed with a nod. “Yes, he is. Because he’s Jack, and that’s how he shows his love.”

Eric groaned again, but this time it was with a smile.

*** 

Eric knew he should tell Jack. Every time he texted, every time they talked over the phone, he knew he should tell him. It wasn’t like it was a big deal. He knew now, and Jack clearly hadn’t been trying to hide anything. But he couldn’t bring himself to say it over the phone, and when Jack agreed to Eric’s suggestion that maybe they stay in and cook, Eric knew it was best to do it then.

So he cooked up a storm, baking sugar pies as the rest of dinner was cooking, and not quite internally panicking about whether or not things would be an issue with Jack in his apartment. In true Eric Bittle style, he’d spent the week pouring over blogs he’d found talking about what it was like to date a blind person—faux pas to avoid, ways to accommodate. Each one boiled down to a main point—talk to your partner, ask them what they’d need.

If only Eric was less of a panicked disaster. But he was resolved to get it all out there before Jack left for the night.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he was pulling fish from the oven, the sound of his door buzzer terrifying him. He let out a tiny yelp as he set the baking dish down, and hurried over. He skidded to a halt in front of the door, then ran his fingers through his hair in hopes he’d been able to at least somewhat tame his cowlick.

Taking a breath, he reached for the handle, and opened the door.

Jack was there, looking amazing as ever. He’d come straight from lecture so he was in a nice pair of jeans and a dark polo. His hair was under a thick knitted toque, his cheeks mottled pink from the cold wind, and he was wearing a pair of black-frame glasses with the thickest lenses Eric had ever seen. In his left hand, the first Eric had seen of it, he was clutching a white cane with a rubber grip.

Eric swallowed. “Hey, Jack,” he said, sounding as breathless as he felt.

Jack chuckled. “Hey, Bittle. Can I…come in?”

“Oh my lord, where are my manners? I’m surprised my momma hasn’t materialised right here to tell me off.” He stepped back, and Jack brushed past him, coming to a stop just as Eric closed the door. When Eric turned back, Jack’s smirk had turned warm, his right hand extended out.

“Can I…?”

“God, yes,” Eric breathed, and let himself be tugged in for a proper hello kiss. After a moment, when Eric pulled back, he was grinning. “I been thinkin’ about that all week.”

Jack’s hand, cupping Eric’s cheek, dragged down the skin slow and purposeful. “Me too.” He let his fingers curl up in Eric’s collar, tugging him in for a second round. “Dinner smells amazing.”

Eric smiled into the kiss, then stepped back. “Um. It’s nearly ready. I just have to put some salad together. Do you uh…how do you um…”

Jack’s smile got a little fonder, and he grabbed Eric’s arm. “Lead the way.”

Eric flushed, but took careful steps toward his kitchen door. “It’s just through here. It’s pretty small, took us near an hour to get the table through the door, but there was no way I was goin’ without a little breakfast nook.”

“I like it,” Jack said. His fingers touched the counter, then he folded up his cane and set it aside. He moved to the chair with ease, sitting down as Eric hustled to the counter and began to add the last of the chopped veg to the salad.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having,” Jack said with a wave of his hand.

Eric poured them both water, got the table set, and took the remaining chair at Jack’s elbow. “I um. So, I read this blog talkin’ about hands on the clock for food and um…”

“I’m okay,” Jack said, that fond smile back. “I’ve got it just fine, Bits.” He picked up his fork, then said, “Studying hard, eh?”

Eric blushed so hard he got dizzy, and he took a long drink of his water. “I panicked? I mean…I’m not panicked to date you. I just wanted it to be nice? And we didn’t really talk about things and…”

“And you didn’t know I was blind,” Jack said.

“Shitty,” Eric murmured, and Jack laughed.

“He runs his mouth when he gets stoned.” At Eric’s tense silence, Jack reached out and squeezed his knee. “It’s okay. We can talk about it after we eat.”

“Maybe over sugar pie?” Eric supplied, and Jack’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“You think I’d let you back into my own kitchen without baking you at least one lil sugar pie, Mr Zimmermann? It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Jack couldn’t seem to help himself as he leant in, and pressed a soft kiss to Eric’s cheek. After that, it was only a little difficult to eat.

*** 

They did take the sugar pie back to the living room, but by the time they got to the sofa, Eric was distracted by Jack’s hands on him—brushing along a thigh, running up his neck, drawing him in for slow, easy kisses.

Twenty minutes went by, and Eric knew they were going to get ahead of themselves if they didn’t stop. Straddled on Jack’s thighs, he pushed his hands into the expanse of the other man’s broad chest and sat back. “Before we get any further…”

Jack licked his lips, letting out a tiny groan, but he nodded. His hands splayed flat across the top of Eric’s legs, and he set his jaw, determined and serious. “Alright. Ask away.”

“Oh,” Eric said, a little flustered. “Um. Well…”

Jack took pity on him with a tiny laugh, curling his hands round Eric’s hips to draw him a little closer. “I was born with a condition called LCA. My parents figured it out when I was about four months old, when I wasn’t tracking much with my eyes. They weren’t sure how much I could or couldn’t see until I was about four and even then, they weren’t sure how advanced it would get. I have some vision, it’s severely hyperopic so the glasses help.” He tapped the frames gently with one finger before bringing his hand back to Eric’s hip. “I have some idea what your living room looks like, but I couldn’t make out individual dishes on the plate during dinner. If I do this, though…” He tugged Eric close until their noses were nearly touching. “I can see your eyes are brown.”

Eric swallowed thickly, and let his nose nuzzle along Jack’s. “Okay,” he whispered.

Jack shrugged, pulling back a little more. “I use braille, and my white cane on days I don’t have my dog. Lola’s with me most of the time, but she wasn’t feeling well today. I hope that answers a few questions?” He punctuated the question by splaying his hands flat right at the top of Eric’s hips, where the hem of his shirt met his trousers.

“Jack,” Eric said, distracted by the way Jack’s fingers were pushing up under his shirt, drawing lines along his bare skin. He nudged him. “Stop it, or I won’t be responsible for this conversation gettin’ derailed in favour of the bedroom.”

“I wouldn’t mind so much,” Jack said, smiling.

“Lord, this boy,” Eric breathed, rolling his eyes. “Be serious for just another minute, then you can have your way with me.”

“Promise?” Jack murmured.

“Promise,” Eric said, breathless. He swallowed, then said, “What can I do? What do I need to do, I mean? For you to be comfortable here with me? Or comfortable with me at yours. I want…I want to see you as much as we can.”

Though Jack didn’t give up touching Eric, he let his hand simply rest against the small of his back, heavy and present and comforting. “Tell me if you make any big changes in your furniture, don’t leave stuff lying in the middle of the floor. Don’t move my things if you’re at mine,” Jack tugged him a little closer and pitched his voice lower, “don’t bother with all these clothes…” He tugged at the hem of Eric’s shirt, “when you’re in my bedroom.”

“Oh my god,” Eric said, but gave up on the rest in favour of leaning down to capture Jack’s mouth with his own.

*** 

An hour later found them sated, a little sweaty, but content in each other’s arms on top of Eric’s sheets. Eric had his head pillowed on Jack’s shoulder, his fingers drawing lines up and down Jack’s sternum. The feeling of the coarse hair under his fingers was soothing, addicting.

“That was,” Eric said, trailing off.

“Mm. It was.” Jack kissed the top of his head, holding him a little tighter. “I like you a lot, Bitty.”

Eric smiled, curling into him a bit more. “I like you too. More’n I’ve liked anyone in a long time, Jack. Kinda…makes me a little nervous. Not like…like I want to stop or slow down. Just…it’s new.”

“For me too,” Jack said. “It’s usually not this easy with other people.” He let out a small sigh, then traced a finger from Eric’s temple, down the curve of his jaw, smiling as he did. “It’s easy with you.”

Eric’s breath in was a little sharp, startled by the honesty of Jack’s words, and startled by the echo of them he could feel in his chest. “I know what you mean,” he said, and caught Jack’s hand by the wrist, bringing it close to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to the tip of each finger, then to the centre of his palm.

“If it’s alright with you,” Jack murmured, sounding a little sleepy now, and making no move to detach himself from Eric, or shift from the bed, “I’d like to see where this goes. You and me.”

Eric couldn’t help his smile as he tugged Jack in for one more kiss. “Me too, sweetheart. I’m all in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come shout at me on tumblr, [angryspace-ravenclaw](https://angryspace-ravenclaw.tumblr.com)


End file.
